


a few times Alfred kissed Arthur

by Randomfandoms389



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Blowjobs, M/M, Smut, spadesverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:28:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24162877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Randomfandoms389/pseuds/Randomfandoms389
Summary: "Was it rude if he didn't try to touch Arthur? Well, technically, he was already touching Arthur; they were pressed together from hip to chest and that alone would have been enough to make Alfred blush, but Arthur’s also sucking delicately on his bottom lip and moving his hips in a terribly distracting way and now Alfred feels a little bit like he might pass out.Arthur would definitely laugh at him then though."(A few chapters of gratuitous spadesverse smut)
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 47





	a few times Alfred kissed Arthur

  
  


Alfred thinks, a bit distantly, that he might be in over his head

They are nineteen and Arthur’s kissing him, open-mouthed and filthy, pressing him back against the wall and the tiny part of Alfred that a bit sounds like his old etiquette teacher ( _You are to be charming, confident, dominating - for goodness’ sake, you're in charge, boy, act like it!_ ) has long since died a swift and pleasurable death.

The wall is cold against his back. The little corner that they're holed up in is far away from the ballroom that Alfred can barely hear the faint music playing. Orchestral music, if he isn't wrong. The sort that Arthur liked. The night was in his honour, after all, to celebrate his return after months at sea. _Celebrating,_ Alfred thinks absently, feeling an almost loopy giggle rising up his throat. Yeah, that was what they were doing, all right. He opens his mouth wider obligingly when Arthur makes a demanding noise and tilts his head back further to deepen the kiss. Mmm. Arthur tasted of chocolate and hard liquor. Rum, probably. Alfred thinks. That was what sailors drank, right? (Or was that pirates?) 

He shifts a little, not minding in the least the way Arthur's got one hand tangled in Alfred’s hair, his palm to the nape of Alfred’s neck. The other is wrapped around his tie, dragging him down and keeping him right where Arthur wanted, and Alfred _really_ shouldn't find that as arousing as it was. It should have been embarrassing, but well, it had been a while and his body is a _lot_ more interested in what Arthur's doing to him than something so silly. He moans a little when Arthur slides a thigh between his legs and feels his best friend smile against his mouth. “You know, you can touch me if you want,” he says, soft and sweet in a way that's utterly at odds with the insidious circling motion of his knee, still so close that his lips brush Alfred’s when he speaks. 

_So_ in over his head. 

Alfred’s hands tighten involuntarily on Arthur’s waist and for a brief slightly panicked moment, he half-wishes a bit wildly that he’d actually tried to practice with other people like Arthur had suggested they do all those months ago before he had left, fantastically blunt in the way he always liked to be whenever he felt like watching Alfred jump and blush and trip over his own tongue like an idiot.

* * *

_“You don't have to, of course.” Arthur looks amused, but then Arthur usually did. It was an expression that looked unfairly good on him. “My goodness, I’ve never seen a teenage boy look so panicked at the thought of kissing someone.”_

_“I've kissed you,” Alfred has to point out, cheeks hot._

_“Yes, and it was very nice, but I’m going to be gone for the next five months. I was just asking if we should agree to practice on other people in the meantime.”_

_Alfred splutters a little and Arthur takes pity on him._

_“It’s just practice, love.” Arthur had been trying out new endearments lately. They were proving to be very effective. Alfred sucks in a shallow breath when Arthur leans against his side and turns bright green eyes upon him. “Just to make sure there’s_ someone _who knows what they're doing when we finally -”_

_“Please don't finish that sentence.”_

  
  


* * *

Was it rude if he _didn't_ try to touch Arthur? Well, technically, he was already touching Arthur; they were pressed together from hip to chest and that alone would have been enough to make Alfred blush, but Arthur’s also sucking delicately on his bottom lip and moving his hips in a terribly distracting way and now Alfred feels a little bit like he might pass out. 

Arthur would definitely laugh at him then though. Fuck, he was laughing at Alfred _now_ , tiny amused puffs against his mouth as he grabs Alfred’s hands and moves them to his ass himself. 

“Oh my god,” Alfred mumbles stupidly and Arthur laughs for real this time. He might have been a little drunk. More importantly, he had a very nice ass. For the record, Alfred has not touched any other asses prior to this, but it felt like a claim that he would probably fight someone to the death to defend, and he tells Arthur this because it seems like vitally important information and besides, his brain-to-mouth filter is crap and this has been a very trying evening. 

Arthur snorts, decidedly swine-like, and says _why,_ _thank you_ in a voice that’s only shaking a little bit with laughter. Then he shifts his mouth to Alfred’s jaw and starts kissing there too and Alfred supposes it was probably all right that he didn't practice because Arthur seems to have practised enough for both of them. He's not even jealous about all the people Arthur must have kissed to get this good, because that when Arthur bites his neck like that it's all Alfred can do not to moan like a moron and he still has to lock his knees to keep from falling over onto his ass.

And well, speaking of asses… 

Alfred really has no idea what he’s doing, but he squeezes tentatively and that seemed like the right thing to do because Arthur shivers a little and presses even closer with a soft, inviting noise that was somehow both really cute and sexy as hell. 

Was it acceptable to pop a boner while you were making out with your best friend and sort-of-fiance? Alfred might have asked (because again: really crappy filter) but Arthur raises his knee a little and presses _just so_ and the question is now _is it acceptable to come in your pants while you were making out with your best friend and sort-of-fiance?_

Alfred doesn't think so, even if said best friend and sort-of-fiance was incredibly hot and really fucking good at kissing. It just wasn't fair. Arthur had been hot even before he went off on a world tour and got a butt that could cause traffic accidents, one of those epic, multi-lane pileups with that made the evening news, just because everyone would be too busy staring to watch the road. And _worse,_ Arthur didn't even have the decency to tan like regular people, he just got like, a hundred freckles whenever he spent time outside. God, those freckles. Alfred couldn't even _see_ them right now and they were still a distraction and he could prove it because when he’d noticed them earlier, he had tripped on his own feet and nearly taken out a buffet table.

He could picture them, if he closed his eyes, splashed across the bridge of Arthur’s pert nose and along his cheekbones, tempting Alfred to press in close and count them. Or kiss them. Or wonder absentmindedly how far down they went because Arthur couldn't have spent the entire time buttoned up like he always was in the castle, right? 

See? Distracting.

Those freckles were going to be the death of Alfred. 

Wait, no. 

_Arthur_ was going to be the death of Alfred.

Arthur, who was now nibbling delicately at Alfred’s collarbone - and when the hell had he even loosened Alfred’s tie and gotten Alfred’s shirt unbuttoned? - as he fiddled with Alfred’s belt and then gave a(n adorable) little triumphant cry when he got it unbuckled. 

Definitely drunk. 

“A-Arthur,” Alfred tries, stuttering only a little, which he feels was very impressive of him since Arthur’s unzipping his pants now and Alfred’s so fucking turned on he can barely stand it. “Oh shit, w-wait, hang on a sec… _ohmygod_ -”

Arthur’s hand is on his dick. It feels nothing like when Alfred does it himself and he is vaguely, distantly surprised about that even though he really shouldn't be because that if handjobs felt like that when you did them to yourself, no one with a dick was ever gonna be able to get anything done since they'd all be too busy jacking off. 

It was possible that his metaphors were getting worse. If this was even a metaphor. Well, Arthur had always been the literature nut of the two of them, so it wasn't much of a loss. 

“Something wrong?” Arthur addresses the question to Alfred’s collarbone. He sounded really hot too, all rough and breathless. It’s not doing much for Alfred’s cognition even _before_ Arthur rubs his thumb over the head of his cock and Alfred finds himself making a sound like a dying cat. The timing did not seem coincidental, but Arthur was unfair like that, offering Alfred a chance to talk and then making it so Alfred _couldn't_. 

He tries again when he feels a bit less like his brain was leaking out his ears. “A-Arthur, you're drunk, you really shouldn't… _ah_ , s-shouldn't…” Arthur bites him and twists his hand around Alfred’s cock and Alfred just about melts into a metaphorical puddle of unspeakable pleasure and slightly questionable moral standards.

 _The flesh was weak_ and all that crap, because you weren't supposed to let your best friend have sex with you (handjobs counted as sex, right?) when they were drunk off their ass. “I-I just don't wanna take advantage or nothin’...”

Arthur leans back from him a little and even in the dim light, Alfred could see how flushed his face was. His lips were swollen. Alfred was seized with the sudden urge to bite them himself. 

“F’rst of all,” one finger up from the drunk man. Alfred eyes it and very briefly thinks about sucking it into his mouth before hurriedly wrenching his mind back to safer territory. “ ‘m not that drunk. Barely tipsy, love, really.” The pet name makes Alfred’s stomach flutter. This was really not the time for his stomach to be misbehaving. 

Another finger. Alfred tries not to look at it, but that just means that he’s looking at Arthur’s very kissable lips instead. There was really no winning with this. “And ‘sides, I've done a lot more while even more drunk -” 

“That really doesn't make it much better,” Alfred tells him instead of thinking about what constituted as _a lot more_ and whether or not he would survive it. Arthur just grins at him, wide and sloppy, and gosh, now Alfred really wants to kiss him but Arthur’s stepping back a little and Alfred actually thinks, for one fleeting, hypocritically disappointed second, that he's come to his senses and they could do this some other time. 

Then Arthur gets on his knees and Alfred’s brain shorts out. 

_“Um.”_

“Yeah?” That’s a shit-eating grin right there. Alfred had previously held the monopoly on shit-eating grins in this relationship but Arthur wears it so well that he can't even be mad. 

Well, he’d tried. 

“Nevermind.” His voice is several pitches higher than it’d been in a long time but Arthur doesn't comment on it.

He just leans in and takes Alfred’s cock into his mouth. 

  
  


Alfred, it also has to be said, has never had anyone’s mouth around his cock before. This is a very new experience and so he feels that he should not be judged for losing it almost immediately. Arthur, on the other hand, has very clearly done this before. Alfred might be jealous about this later, but right now he's too busy moaning and trying not to buck his hips or come into Arthur’s mouth without warning because he’s pretty sure that’s rude. 

But then Arthur groans around his cock and then he does this… this _thing_ with his _tongue_ and Alfred’s hips are arching off the wall without his permission and then his hands are in Arthur’s hair and it’s all over in what feels like an embarrassingly short amount of time. 

Arthur doesn't even flinch when Alfred comes with a strangled cry, just goes on sucking, running his tongue along the underside of Alfred’s cock and this only makes the pleasurable aftershocks even more intense. Alfred is pretty sure that the only reason he’s still standing right now is the very convenient wall behind his back. And also Arthur’s steadying hands on his hips as he licks Alfred’s cock clean and then tips his head back to give his handiwork a satisfied once-over.

There's a bit of white at the corner of his mouth. Alfred can't stop staring at it. 

Arthur doesn't seem to notice. He's smiling again, a little crookedly, as he leans his cheek against Alfred’s hip and waits patiently for him to stop hyperventilating. 

“All right there, love?”

“ _No_ ,” Alfred tells him, because he really wasn’t. His legs were still shaking and when Arthur lets go of him, he slides bonelessly down the wall with a pathetic whine. “Where the hell did you even learn to do _that_?”

“Trade secret,” Arthur tells him, leaning in to press his forehead into Alfred’s neck. It sounded fond. “God, you're so _loud_. I barely did anything to you.”

It did not feel like _barely anything_ and Alfred would have said so if he hadn't been suddenly smacked in the face with the reminder that while he had finished, Arthur hadn't. (This was purely figurative; Arthur didn't actually smack him in the face with his cock although Alfred doesn't think that he would be in any position to object after the orgasm that he had gotten.)

Back to the point: Arthur’s breathing hitches a little as he shifts his weight and Alfred silently tries to figure out whatever the hell he was supposed to do when his best friend was jerking himself off right there in front of him. Offer to help? It seemed only fair. 

“Um, Art? I can… if you wanna…?” Alfred offers clumsily, swallowing hard as Arthur shudders and moans into his neck. 

“Just -” Arthur pauses, panting now, stumbling over the words in a way that was actually kinda reassuring, if Alfred thought about it. Not that he's capable of thinking much right now. “T-touch me. Just your hand, I don't… you don't have to- _oh god.”_

Arthur’s moan when Alfred works a hand around his cock was _obscene_. He’s warm, which was admittedly not the most intelligent thing to think when you were touching someone else’s cock for the first time but at least he didn't say it out loud. Plus Alfred thinks he redeems himself somewhat when he thumbs at the leaking slit like he would for himself and Arthur jolts and then gasps out something like “ _o-oh, yes do that again-_ ”

It’s not exactly refined; their hands tangle and they keep getting into each other’s way but it works somehow, they must have done _something_ right, because Arthur’s giving one last moan and then coming messily over their hands. He slumps forward into Alfred when he's done, goes limp against his chest and almost purrs when Alfred wraps an arm around his shoulders reflexively. 

“That… was good?” Alfred ventures hopefully after a minute or two of them just breathing. Arthur still smelled a little like the sea, like salt and brine, even after the scented soaps and flowery perfumes that the servants must have doused him with the second he got off his ship. Alfred thinks he likes it. (That didn't really mean much though, 'cause this was Arthur. Alfred would probably have liked _Eau de dead fish_ if Arthur was wearing it.) He props his chin on the crown of Arthur's head contentedly and doesn't think about how they were gonna have to go back to the ball soon. It wasn't a very appealing idea. The floor might not have been exactly forgiving, but Alfred was comfortable anyway. It might have something to do with Arthur’s warm weight leaning into him. Plus the orgasm. 

Arthur _mmh_ s at him agreeably and then sits up properly to fish a handkerchief out of his pocket with his clean hand. Oh yeah, Alfred had almost forgotten that there was come gumming up their fingers. He sticks out his hand to let Arthur wipe the mess off and then squeaks embarrassingly when Arthur gets that evil little look and makes as if to stick Alfred’s fingers into his mouth because _holy shit_ -

Arthur just snickers as he drops the now-stained cloth onto the back of Alfred’s hand to let him wipe it off himself. Oh. It was just a bluff. Alfred tells himself that he isn't weirdly disappointed, but Arthur can probably tell anyway because Arthur’s just like that and Alfred is pretty much an open book to him. 

“Meanie,” Alfred accuses him, pouting, and Arthur snickers some more. He does press a kiss to Alfred’s cheek affectionately as they start getting their clothes back in order though and that kinda makes up for it so. Alfred takes a quick, rallying breath.

“Hey, Arthur?”

“Hmm?”

“I missed you.”

Arthur looks up from where he's fiddling with his cufflinks. His eyes are warm, crinkling at the corner when he smiles.

“And I you, Alfred.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've always been attached to the idea that Arthur has more experience than Alfred and well, flustered Alfred is just so fun to write... (●˙꒳˙●) 
> 
> There might be more to this but school's started up for me again so. I have... * does headcount * maybe 2 more fics that are mostly fit for consumption? yeeah and that'll probably be it from me for a while because my time management is just aw f u l and the odds of me actually managing to write during term time are... slim. very slim.


End file.
